


The Right Place

by halotolerant



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Blindfolds, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Object Insertion, Post-Canon, very light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9008302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halotolerant/pseuds/halotolerant
Summary: Jesper yearns for that still, itches like a fiend for it, but because Wylan Van Eck is one of the most wonderful and intelligent young men in existence, and because for reasons that are still somewhat incomprehensible, he has chosen to apply himself to solving the problem of Jesper Fahey, generally and in the specifics, there are a lot of ways now he knows to get that rush and that relaxation without running through all his money or letting anyone else down.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aderam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aderam/gifts).



“I’ve been thinking,” Wylan had said that morning, with that face he made when indeed he had been, the expression that usually prefaced something new and interesting exploding.

 

And so it had proved, if not in the way that Jesper had at first expected.

 

Right now, with the sun setting in the West, Jesper is kneeling in the middle of an empty room at the Van Eck house, naked, eyes covered, holding his hands behind his back, crossed at the wrists. Nothing is tying him down; he’s here because he wants to be.

 

Oh yes, how much he wants to be.

 

It’s a bit like the thrill he once got gambling, doing this. The thrill of running, shooting, being ready for the fray, blood racing for the fight. And then the way when the chips were down, literally or otherwise, a beautiful wonderful silence would fall right through him, refreshing as diving into the ice bath after a hot Ravkan-style sauna.

 

Jesper yearns for that still, itches like a fiend for it, but because Wylan Van Eck is one of the most wonderful and intelligent young men in existence, and because for reasons that are still somewhat incomprehensible, he has chosen to apply himself to solving the problem of Jesper Fahey, generally and in the specifics, there are a lot of ways now he knows to get that rush and that relaxation without running through all his money or letting anyone else down.

 

Some of it is about keeping busy. Some of it is about finding ways to help Wylan with the business – legitimate business, the long, slow, proper way, like Jesper’s father would be proud of and Wylan’s would not. Some of it is plotting assaults for Inej, assisting her with strategies for her little ship, already a legend, a fairytale or horror story depending on where the teller fits into the trade of human beings.

 

Some of it is about learning to be  _zowa_  – Grisha, demon, whatever you want to call it – learning to be himself.

 

Maybe all of it is about that, really.

 

Jesper takes a long, steadying breath and makes himself keep his head hung low, not reaching for his blindfold. The bare boards are hard on his knees, he’s sure he can feel the grain of the wood against his skin.

 

His heart is pounding; he can feel it in his throat, at his wrists, shaking in his chest. He’s hard, can feel that too, thick, hot and heavy between his legs.

 

“Keep still for me,” says a voice from nowhere and everywhere at once, and Jesper stiffens to attention all over.

 

It’s that sweet promise he’d once get loading his gun; you will feel better, and then you will feel beautiful, and nothing will be bad any more.

 

“Yes,” he breathes out.

 

“Good. Well done.” Behind him, Wylan is behind him, he must have scaled down the outside of the building to come in through the window.

 

Wylan and Inej have traded many skills and favours, in the past several months, and Wylan can surprise Jesper in even more ways than ever, now.

 

The praise makes Jesper’s skin heat. He tries to set his shoulders back, to push his chest forward proudly the way Wylan has said he likes to see him. This – what they do here, in this room – has made Wylan talk more, even as it has helped Jesper manage to be quiet, inside and out. Wylan struts out on the streets of Ketterdam nowadays with that certain assuredness that only comes when a man has made someone sob with pleasure in his bed, and beg him desperately for his cock.

 

In that, as in everything, Jesper has been more than happy to oblige.

 

Sometimes, some nights, it runs the other way. Sometimes Wylan blushes and Jesper flirts and they end up in a happy, wriggling pile in their bed, sweet as sugar. Sometimes Wylan is the one gasping, pleading for it – at least for the matter of seconds Jesper can bear to deny him before giving him everything he wants.

 

Sometimes they just sit together. Perhaps that ought to be the bit that’s really surprising. Jesper Fahey, at home by the piano, making cow eyes as his sweetheart sings, and his more-or-less mother-in-law joins in duet. Jesper used to laugh at people who lived like that, but then he used to laugh a lot of times he shouldn’t.

 

Today, though, Wylan has been thinking, and Jesper is waiting here patiently for him to reveal what new and marvelous notion has crossed his mind.

 

There’s the slightest creak from one of the floorboards – Jesper can’t help turning towards it. Wylan has come into the room, is circling him. Looking at him.

 

Jesper shivers.

 

“Well done,” Wylan murmurs again, from just to the side, and there’s a gentle touch to the side of Jesper’s head, a caress along his hairline, his cheek, ending with a thumb pressing at the seam of his mouth.

 

Jesper parts his lips eagerly, reaches like a suckling calf.

 

“You like doing this for me,” Wylan says simply. It’s a statement of fact, but the affection comes through like warmth from a good-stoked fire.

 

“Please,” Jesper says. He doesn’t speak like he usually does here, like this, this way. He doesn’t have to. No energy is needed to preserve all the ways he acts his role – here, Wylan is in charge, and Jesper just has to trust him, and that is the easiest thing in the world.

 

“You’d like to have me in your mouth properly,” Wylan suggests. “Your beautiful, lovely, warm, talented mouth.” Each new adjective is another stroke of Wylan’s fingers over Jesper’s lips. The fingers taste faintly metallic – Wylan’s been in his workshop again. He’s said before that in the afternoons building up to one of these sessions he can work faster, better even than usual, that ideas fly faster, connect better, sparking in his mind in the excitement of what is coming.

 

Murmuring his agreement, Jesper tries to shuffle closer, pressing his head forward, hoping to get his face to what he wants.

 

“No. Stay there. Stay still.” The reprimand is the gentlest, Wylan’s hands moving to hold Jesper’s shoulders steady. “That’s better. Good.”

 

Jesper isn’t a chemist or a healer or a corporalki, so he can’t understand why this, why bumping into rules and having them reinforced, makes him feel even better than breaking all the rules used to. All he knows is that soft, golden heat is surging up through him, a counterpoint to the growing arousal at his groin, two strands of a melody that only Wylan can play.

 

“You can have what you want,” Wylan is saying now. “You can have everything you want.” His hands are running through Jesper’s hair again, soothing at his temples. “All you have to do is get to it.”

 

Jesper nods, not concerned. He’s never yet met the trouser fastening he couldn’t open with his teeth.

 

Another creak of the floorboard. Wylan is moving towards him; Jesper can feel his heat.

 

“Try, then,” Wylan urges, and Jesper leans forward at once, mouth watering.

 

And bumps his nose, rather painfully, against an even harder protuberance than he was expecting.

 

“Not quite, dearest.” The endearment soothes better than any spell might, but Wylan is rubbing at Jesper’s forehead anyway. “Try again, and more slowly, and you’ll realise what’s there for you.”

 

Slowly, then, Jesper noses forward again. Wylan’s trousers with the button fly where one button is slightly chipped – the green ones, not usually very tight – are straining around something cool and solid between his legs.

 

Starting to suspect, Jesper opens his mouth and sets to getting inside. He could investigate with his hands, nothing’s holding them back except his own choice, but he’d tried that once and realised this only works when he lets it.

 

That said, the idea of not being able to move at all, of really being restrained… that’s something they need to talk about, sooner or later.

 

The idea sends a thrill through him and he sighs, and feels himself twitch.

 

“Do you understand yet?” Wylan asks gently, keeping him on course.

 

Jesper leans forward, gives a cautious lick.

 

He almost wants to laugh, now, a good laugh, one of delight in the sheer ingenuity of this wonderful man who loves him.

 

“It’s some sort of cock armour?” he suggests, letting the humour into his voice, and is glad when Wylan pushes him back a moment, stays in charge.

 

“More or less,” Wylan does concede. “It’s a steel sleeve, a nice smooth, clean one. And you’re going to get it off me, and into you.”

 

Jesper has to catch his breath. He nearly finished up right there, on that image alone.

 

And then he thinks a little. Getting it off Wylan he might manage with his mouth, but for the rest of it, unless his arms are to get free, which is never usually allowed…

 

“I’m to move it with my power,” he says after what feels like a while holding the words in his mouth.

 

“Well done,” says Wylan. “I know you can do it. Come on now.”

 

Jesper takes a couple of sharp, panting breaths. He feels so good already, the idea of bringing the way he feels being  _zowa_  into this… But Wylan’s plan, oh Wylan’s plan has been so precisely calculated. If there’s one thing that turns Jesper on even more than having something inside him, it’s the feeling of trusting someone enough to put it there. And he’s only ever felt either of those things since Wylan came into his life.

 

Wylan’s hand is back at his cheek, thumb stroking. “Come on, dearest. I know you can.”

 

 _No one ever encouraged Wylan_ , Jesper finds himself thinking, and he opens his mouth again.

 

“Wylan,” he gasps, and in the next instant Wylan is kissing him, mouth against his own. Wylan’s name means Jesper needs kissing, his own means he needs to stop and talk a moment before they go on – it’s a system that serves them well. But Jesper has no need to call his own name today, because right now he feels like he knows exactly who he is, and exactly where he needs to be, what he has to do.

 

He has to do as Wylan has asked. It’s an entirely splendid feeling.

 

“Yes,” he says against Wylan’s lips, and Wylan kisses him once, quickly, again, and steps back a little.

 

“You can, I know you can.”

 

Jesper squares his shoulders again, centres himself, reaches out to try and feel the molecules in everything around him, that cool, steel sleeve between him and his goals.

 

He’s going to slide it off, and he’s going to lick the taste off Wylan’s cock, feast there if he’s allowed to. Then he’s going to get himself in position, poised so Wylan can see as much as he wants to, and he’s going to move that steel in the air, and it’s going to go inside him, and he is going to feel Wylan’s handiwork inside and out and all over him.

 

He’s going to fall apart, and Wylan is going to put him back together.

 

How good, at last, to know everything he wants is right there within his reach.


End file.
